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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24575431">There's a coin worth flipping...Why don't you toss?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/villanevebabexo/pseuds/villanevebabexo'>villanevebabexo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Killing Eve (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Hurt/Comfort, I Tried, Post Season 3 Finale, Shameless Smut, Some Fluff, Some Humor, They are so in love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:33:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,380</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24575431</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/villanevebabexo/pseuds/villanevebabexo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is a moment of choice. The choice has been made over and over again. And so she makes that very same choice. She was born to make this choice, and she makes this choice to be re-born. Endlessly. Until she’s nothing but a fragment of memory fading in time. But even then Eve is certain that she would make this choice again."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>229</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Turtlenecks, noodles, and a panic attack.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Jodie Comer said they walked away...I say no they don't.</p><p>In other words, another self indulgent fic, because I want to, and I can x</p><p>Part 01. Here we go.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eve walks back. </p><p> </p><p>At some point her steps become faster. So fast that she doesn’t feel her body anymore, but it’s not just the way she’s running. It’s also the fact that, quite literally, everything around her disappears. She forgets the bridge. The people? And how to breathe. Eve swears she escapes her own flesh. She’s watching herself outside herself. She might have died, but why is that even a big deal? It’s not, because just when she’s about to panic, the blurriness in her vision (she’s crying) subsides (maybe she wipes her tears away/she doesn’t care), and she finally looks up to meet those eyes. The very same eyes that have haunted her for years. She swears deep in her soul that there is nothing more beautiful. And maybe she’s a monster. Maybe they’re both star crossed monsters, ill-fated for life. But Eve would be a liar if she were to deny that she was ready to change their luck for the night. Maybe for eternity if she’s not so exhausted. </p><p> </p><p>As though Villanelle could feel her feelings, “God, I am tired.” She mirrors in her Russian accent. </p><p> Eve just watches. Her light eyes are glossy. A reflection surface turned fully accessible. She could see right into her, and suddenly her brain forgets how to weave letters into words into sentence; there is no point in language anymore. There is no point when Eve is happily unable to describe what she sees in the eyes of her almost killer. The eyes of her almost kill. Death. Life. What is it all about? She wants to disappear into thin air, and take her with her. She wants so many things, but also nothing at all, except standing here on her least favourite bridge in London. Never breaking eye contact. </p><p>This is a moment of choice. The choice has been made over and over again. And so she makes that very same choice. She was born to make this choice, and she makes this choice to be re-born. Endlessly. Until she’s nothing but a fragment of memory fading in time. But even then Eve is certain that she would make this choice again. </p><p> </p><p>“Come with me,” She states. She doesn’t order. She doesn’t beg. Because you don’t plead when you know you’ve been made for each other. </p><p> </p><p>Villanelle is quiet. The Uber driver is not. Eve is quiet. The world is very alive. London at 9PM. Friday night. People outside don’t care that Eve has never been both exhilarated, and so utterly nonexistent at the same time. But it’s not scary. It’s almost like blending in with the power that moulded you into the state of living, and then decided for you that you’ve found a purpose. What a disgustingly banal statement to think about. Eve is pretty sure she’s about to throw up, but she hasn’t eaten anything. And Villanelle is looking at her. She’s contemplating. Eve doesn’t need to ask; she could swear on her very last breath that they’re both feeling this. This thing. Whatever it is. Eve can’t be the only one. </p><p>“You can’t throw up here. I work very hard for my Uber rating.” Somehow, in the midst of all of this, hearing V’s voice, and the mischievous tone makes her laugh. She lets out a very loud giggle, and she doesn’t stop for a few seconds. </p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t throw up. Villanelle reaches over, and interlocks their fingers together. In the backseat of this random car. Who knows what a Toyota something something is? God, it’s so glorious how she couldn’t care less about the car. Fuck that car. And focus on what really matters. Villanelle’s skin feels like an extension of hers. The skin on skin doesn’t feel like skin on skin. Instead it feels like a taste. The tastes of a sweet prickly pear that you consume whole. You let your mouth bleed so much until the sweetness merges with the pain. There is no difference anymore. </p><p> </p><p>    Eve knows that Villanelle knows that they’re not safe. Realistically speaking. Someone could be following them. The talkative Uber driver might as well just turn out to be a cold blooded murderer. A Villanelle-like assassin who would have no issue stabbing them to death. Their blood streams would turn into one and they would die watching the last sparkle drain out of each other’s eyes. Eve is still not sure about heaven or hell, but somehow she’s determined to follow Villanelle’s guide if they’re killed. When they’re nothing and everything at the same time. When they turn into light or dust. And when they retreat so deep inside they can’t escape anymore? Even then Eve still bets that she would still somehow manage to find a way back to V. </p><p>    They’re not safe; Eve has accepted whatever is coming their way.  </p><p>They’re not safe, but she's never felt more shielded. New Malden isn’t suffocating her anymore as they walk hand in hand down the high street. The same street that Eve walked on at least twice a day for months, nursing both her body and her heart. The same street where she felt so goddamn invisible that she wanted V to show up and shoot her again just so she can feel seen. But only seen by her. Because Eve didn’t care about anyone else’s gaze. She didn’t care about the co-worker who asked her out. Or the restaurant manager who almost begged her to work at the reception area instead of the kitchen. She refused. Of course she refused. The thought of being perceived. Witnessed by the insignificance of random people offended her. She didn’t care. She didn’t fucking care. </p><p>   It’s nice. It’s nice to walk. It’s nicer to walk with her. Villanelle doesn’t say anything. Neither does Eve. But again, language is not needed here. At one point, V looks at her, she smiles. And it’s similar to Rome. Except that this time Eve can’t imagine not running to Alaska with her. She wants to exist in the woods somewhere across the ocean and survive on berries and Villanelle’s warmth. Real life is not a fantasy. But Eve is not interested in anything “real” right now. Her feelings are real though. But they’re a different type of real. They’re real because she doesn’t have to materialise them. They’re real, because she doesn’t need to form them into a shape that shows up in real life. Unless that shape is the little curve at Villanelle’s hip. Eve can’t see anything under the yellow quote. But that doesn’t stop her from her thoughts. She doesn't need to resist anymore. She’s not horny. She’s hungry. She wants to feel V in every way possible. She wants her in her and on her. But she’s also so drained, and she doesn’t know what’s going to happen when they go through this door. </p><p>The door. </p><p>“Do you have the keys?” Villanelle asks. </p><p>Eve is confused for a second. She hasn’t been here in weeks. She hasn’t been here since the bus. And the kiss. And the. The heart. The speaking heart that she fell asleep to, touched herself to, then felt guilty and gross. She doesn’t feel gross anymore. She can’t remember if she has they keys. She rummages through her bag. She can’t find what she needs. She panics for a second. She looks at Villanelle. But V doesn’t panic. V gets a pin out of her pocket. And in no time at all, she opens the door. She breaks in. Probably just like she broke in that one time.</p><p> </p><p>Eve briefly tries to see her tiny flat from V’s perspective. It’s nothing special, but seeing Villanelle stand inside, the tiny flat feels like the haven she prayed for. She doesn't even pray. But she would for V. When did Eve turn into a lesbian cliche? A coming of age film character at 40 something years old? Fuck it. She takes off her coat. She walks into the kitchen. Well it’s all one room anyway. She opens the fridge. She grabs a water bottle. Grateful for water. She’s nervous. Why is she getting nervous? Is she scared? She could never be scared of V. She’s never been scared of anything, really. Except maybe not having this moment to the fullest. But she has it now. She has her. </p><p> </p><p>Villanelle seems more relaxed. Eve watches her across the room. She takes off her coat. She takes off her shoes. Eve didn’t even take off her shoes. How impolite. Villanelle walks towards the bed. She sits down. She looks at Eve.  </p><p>“Are you hungry? I’m hungry.” She asks. Eve doesn’t understand what V means, because her hunger might be different. Or perhaps it’s the same. </p><p>When V doesn’t hear a response, she smiles, “do you have any food in here? Shall we order?” </p><p>Eve is struck by how “normal” this looks and feels and looks and feels. And looks. And feels. She snaps out of her growing bubble. </p><p>“I can make some noodles,” She offers. Noodles sound good. Anything with V sound good. </p><p>“I can help,” Villanelle informs as she joins her in the kitchen, “Are you scared of me?” </p><p>Eve is struck again. Because she’s not. She wants to scream it. But instead she gently cups V’s face. </p><p>“No,” Her one word is soft, but serious. Too serious. She watches Villanelle’s face relax as she glances around, maybe trying to think of a funny comeback. But the funny comeback doesn’t come. </p><p> </p><p>They stay like that for a few seconds. Time stretches, and Eve wants it to stop. Just fucking stop for once. I demand that you stop, she yells in her head. But time doesn’t stop. And so Eve remembers Noodles. She grabs the ingredients. V tries to help. But Eve discovers pretty quickly that cooking is not her thing. How can an assassin not know how to mix food stuff to create more food stuff? </p><p>After a few hesitant giggles, some shocked stares, and a broken egg on the floor. Food is ready. They sit at the tiny dinner table, and god this is so damn familiar. Too familiar. They both remember. They have to. </p><p>“You know what I still don’t understand?” V asks as she gulps some of the noodles. It’s so animalistic. The way she eats. But also extremely human. Eve knows that she could watch her eat all night. </p><p>She shakes her head, “what?”</p><p>Villanelle pauses for a second. Eve braces herself for whatever is about to come. </p><p>“Why do you always wear turtlenecks?” She asks. Her tone is serious, but her mouth grins. </p><p>Eve rolls her eyes, and chuckles.<br/>
“I can change my shirt if it makes you happy,” And she would. </p><p> </p><p>Villanelle eyes her with a certain intent, “is that what you really want?” </p><p>Eve knows. </p><p>The conversation has shifted, and Eve knows that V is no longer talking about the turtleneck. </p><p>“Yes,” No hesitation. No confusion. Her mind has never been more clear. </p><p> </p><p>She wants her. She wants this.</p><p>“You know, you can still escape. You can still have a normal life.” Villanelle casually reminds as she continues to eat. </p><p> </p><p>Eve is annoyed now. She sighs, and leaves the table. Her plate untouched. She settles on the bed. On the other side of the room. She lays down. Breathes. This feels like an endless cycle. </p><p>Villanelle finishes her food. Eve can hear her pour herself some water. She drinks it. She sits at the table. Eve knows the other woman is thinking. And she hates it. She fucking hates it. There is nothing to think about. </p><p>Eve closes her eyes. She’s so drained. Emotionally. Physically. Mentally. It feels like hours, but she knows it’s only been a few minutes when V joins her. Lays next to her. </p><p>Another familiar setting. </p><p>“I’m not good with words,” Eve says, “But I want you to know it, Villanelle. I want you to really fucking know it.” </p><p>“Know what,” It’s not a question. V already knows. She wants reassurance. </p><p> </p><p>“Can you kiss me?” Eve responses. </p><p>The glossiness in Villanelle’s eyes comes back, except this time, it’s more visible. More intense. This time it rolls down her cheeks. She’s crying as she leans towards Eve. Their mouths meet. Fucking finally. Eve melts into V’s breath. They don’t move their lips. They just remain put. Mouth on mouth. One breath. They are one. They are the same. And Eve wants them to be the same in every way possible. She wants to be swallowed whole by Villanelle. She wants to disappear into her being. Become a red cell running in her blood street. Or maybe a piece in her bone marrow. Anything but the distance. There is practically no distance between them. But it still feels like it. Eve is the first one to move her lips. She needs so much more. </p><p> </p><p>     Villanelle follows. Eve could tell that she’s nervous. Afraid to lead. Afraid to take her right here. Right now. As their kisses become more sloppy and their moans louder, Eve begins to quietly sobs. The saltiness of the tears mix with the sweetness of the salvia. She doesn’t realise it until Villanelle stops. Pulls away.</p><p>“Are you okay?” She seems terrified. </p><p> </p><p>What happened to you? Eve wants to ask. She still doesn’t have a response. But she doesn’t question. She just nods. </p><p>“Are you sure?” V insists. </p><p>This time Eve gets up. She stands by the bed. They look at each other. Eve can tell that V doesn’t know what’s going on. </p><p>Eve wipes some of the remaining tears away. She smiles. She slowly takes off her clothes. One by one. She strips naked. She’s never stripped naked in front of anyone. Not even her husband. Ex husband. She’s never had body image issues. She’s never cared enough to feel uncomfortable in her skin. But she’s never wanted anyone to see her. Utterly and wholly see her. Never thought it would matter. That is until now. Something about standing there in nothing. Something about it makes her feel both so vulnerable and extremely powerful. </p><p> </p><p>She’s not ashamed anymore.  </p><p>Her eyes don’t break contact with Villanelle’s. She’s waited so long for this look. She runs her fingers through her hair, and down her neck. Her skin is so warm; she wants to feel V’s hands on it. She steadily walks back towards the bed, slightly surprised that the trembling inside her body hasn’t affected her movements yet. She doesn’t sit down. Instead, she just stands there in front of V who sits up. Wraps her arms around Eve’s waists and grabs her closer. If Eve could walk just a second ago, she definitely can’t now. Villanelle hugs her. Face on stomach. She nibbles, and kisses on her skin. It feels refreshing. It feels soft. Safe. She’s safe. </p><p> </p><p>    Eve is now on the bed. She doesn’t know how. And Villanelle is hovering over her. She doesn’t know how. They’re inches apart. Close enough for Eve to feel V’s shaky breath on her face.  Or perhaps the sound is produced by her own lungs. She can’t really tell the difference anymore. It’s exactly what she’s wanted. It’s exactly what she dreamed of. V kisses her again. This time there is no rush. But of course as they taste each other again, they want more. Eve wants more. She craves more when Villanelle sucks on the sensitive skin behind her ear. She craves more when V licks down her neck. Down her body. She wants more when she sucks on her breasts. Painful and so pleasant that Eve has to groan. She’s pretty convinced Villanelle could easily give her a nipple orgasm. Is that possible? Eve never experienced it. But she’s so close. Villanelle moves down. Down. Down. Eve forgets how to breathe. Who needs oxygen. She doesn’t. God, she definitely doesn’t. This is not sex. Villanelle is a worshipper. This is an act of holiness. Eve laughs when Villanelle lands on her hips. The part where her thighs merge with her torso. She’s ticklish. She didn’t know she was ticklish. She laughs and moans as V goes even further down. Eve never spread her legs so fast before. Villanelle lets out a loving giggle at the quick reaction. But Eve doesn’t care. She’s not embarrassed by her desire. She smiles back. </p><p> </p><p>Eve looks at her as Villanelle looks between her legs. She doesn’t touch. She just examines. Her gaze so piercing that Eve hopes she doesn’t come just by witnessing the way V discerns her parts. But she also doesn’t beg even though she knows she is so fucking ready. </p><p>It feels like a life time, but it’s only seconds. Well, maybe minutes. Villanelle gently unfolds her outer lips. Opens her out like a piece of candy. Eve closes her eyes, and when V runs her finger up and down her slit, spreading her wetness everywhere, she whispers a yes. Maybe she just says it in her head. Thoughts and audible words become one. It doesn’t matter, because she only wants one thing now. She wants it. She knows Villanelle is going to take her time. She still wants it. Maybe if she moves her hips up, her message will be delivered. Her needs will be met. And maybe Villanelle understands, because her mouth finally makes contact with the fragile pink texture of Eve’s. She doesn’t suck on her clit. She licks everywhere around it. Eve can feel herself get harder as the blood rushes to her groin. She can feel every nerve ending stand up, prepare for the tension release. </p><p> </p><p>“I can’t wait anymore,” Eve opens her eyes. It’s a miracle that she finds her voice. </p><p>Villanelle lifts her head up and looks at Eve, lips and chin glistening under the dim room lighting. </p><p>“Yes you can,” She says, her eyes don’t blink. Eve has never seen so much lust in anyone before. No one she’s ever slept with has looked at her like this. It’s a moment of revelation. But it’s also a moment of remembrance? Not in this life. Perhaps from a different life. Almost as though Eve always knew that she was destined to be looked at in that way. And so she obeys. She waits. She closes her eyes again. She never needed to be dominated before. But Now? It feels like something so determinant to her own survival. The fantasy of being taken whole comes back just in time. When V finally takes her whole down there. When her clit is finally between her lips. When she licks it then sucks. Eve feels both a sense of urgency and peace overcome her. Villanelle adds a finger in. Then two. </p><p> </p><p>When Eve finally comes, she is so worn out that she falls asleep right away. She doesn’t know it. She doesn’t realise. She dazes off. And when she wakes up, minutes later? Hours? She’s in bed. She doesn’t remember how her pillow ended up under her head or how she was wrapped in a blanket. She feels so rested. She’s never felt so content. It takes her a few seconds to fully wake up as she recalls last night’s events. She recalls how the best orgasm she’s ever had knocked her right out. Of course it did. She smiles. She can feel herself get wet again just remembering the details. Remembering Villanelle between her legs. Villanelle. Where is Villanelle? She's not next to her. She's not in the flat. Or is she? The sense of peace escapes Eve's body as she jumps. She panics. Where is V? She glances around. She gets up. Naked. Runs towards the bathroom. It’s empty. She’s about to cry. She grabs her phone from her bag by the door, and shakily dials V’s number. It’s ringing. But it’s ringing in the room. Where the fuck are you, she tries to scream. But her voice betrays her. The walls are closing in. She can’t breathe. Is this how she dies? </p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t die, because Villanelle shows up and saves her. </p><p> </p><p>Eve is angry. She’s relieved. She realises it’s already morning. How? But no. Don’t get distracted. She’s angry. Villanelle seems confused. She drops a couple grocery bags by the door. </p><p>“Why are you crying?” She asks. </p><p>And Eve wants to scream, and cry even more. </p><p>She’s still mad. But she’s more scared now. </p><p>“I thought you left me.” She says between sobs. </p><p>“I just went to the shops,” She still seems confused. How can she be confused? </p><p>“You can’t just leave like this. What if something happened to you? What if you never came back?” Eve never realised how attached she really is until this moment. What a joke. What a beautiful joke. </p><p>It seems that Villanelle is slowly understanding. </p><p>“I’m- sorry?” She apologises, “Stop crying.” </p><p>But Eve can’t just stop crying. How the fuck does anyone just stop crying when they go through what she’s gone through in the past few days? It’s almost like this panic attack is the straw that broke the camel’s back. The camel being her brain. Her body. She can’t take it anymore. </p><p>V walks up to her, “I don’t know what to do. Please just tell me, and I’ll do it. Just don’t cry.” </p><p>Eve is small and naked and afraid. She hugs Villanelle. This time, she is determined to never let go. </p><p>“You were so tired I didn’t want to wake you up,” V explains. Eve still in her embrace. </p><p>“Next time wake me up, okay?” Eve’s tears are finally slowing down. She can now talk without the sniffles. </p><p>“I will,” Villanelle pulls away just so she can see her face, “Come shower with me.” </p><p> </p><p>Eve nods.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. There is no maybe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>But V doesn’t leave. Instead, she holds Eve’s hand under water, “I can show you- If that’s what you want.” </p><p>Eve nods. God, yes. Show me. Teach me.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am just a wh8re with some spare time &lt;3<br/>This was cathartic to write! I hope you enjoy. Please let me know what you think xx<br/>BTW I changed the main title. Didn't know the diff between the work title and chapter titles lol. Love being in my late twenties figuring this out!!! Also I wrote both chapters listening to Homage by The Mild High Club. Such a vibe.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eve is led to the bathroom by Villanelle; she briefly wonders what would happen if she let go of her cold sweaty hand. Would the blonde fade away like the rest of Eve’s world before she met her? Will she continue to exist when their hands aren’t intertwined anymore? When their fate is no longer one? Villanelle would be fine. Eve thinks. As they enter the small bathroom. She is momentarily so grateful to have a bathtub; something so rare in London. It’s attached to a shower, but Eve doesn’t care about the shower. She wants to stop existing for a few minutes. Maybe hours. And she wants to do that under water in her tub. With her. But Villanelle would be fine, Eve thinks again. Would she be fine if they stopped this before it turned into a bigger mess? It’s already a mess. Eve sees the same fantasy again. Killed together. Dying in bloody bath water. Her fascination with death has never been so physical. It is now. She feels death in her body. Not terrifyingly. She’s made peace with it. But Villanelle would be okay. If they walk away. If they live separately. Villanelle would survive. </p><p>But Eve? </p><p>Eve knows she would rather die in that bath water. </p><p> </p><p>When Villanelle unlocks their hands, Eve has to stop herself from panicking. Just breathe, she reminds her lungs. They’re still in one room, sharing the same oxygen molecules. And when V takes off her clothes, Eve remembers she’s been naked this whole time. This might have been the longest she’s ever been naked. And those oxygen molecules? They stop right in her throat when she sees V for the first time. Her expensive clothes on the tiled bathroom floor. Eve has never seen a naked woman before. Not in real life. Not before her eyes. And if she has, those images will no longer take up space in her head now that she witnessed Villanelle. How can she look so vulnerable and glorious at the same time? Eve watches her run the water. She watches the bathtub slowly fill up as V adds some random bubble bath liquid, was the bottle just waiting for this perfect moment? Waiting for way too long? At least it waited. Her shower plants didn’t. They look so dead. They are dead. And Eve wants to laugh, because that could be her and Villanelle any minute. Any second. Why are they still alive? </p><p> </p><p>Villanelle stands by the Bath. It’s ready now. She looks up at Eve, waiting. and Eve realises how bruised her body looks. She notices the scar that she’s given her forever ago. Back when things were less complicated. Back when Eve just wanted Villanelle dead, because she couldn’t handle feeling that she didn’t want her dead. She couldn’t handle that she wanted nothing but fuck her since the Shepard’s pie date. And this urge. This need to feel Villanelle in so many ways overwhelms her. She knows she will tear up at someone point now, and she accepts her faith. It’s not so much about Villanelle’s nude body- though Eve wonders how long it took her to tone every single muscle, how long it took her to look so comfortable, unafraid of her nakedness. It’s about so much more than that. And it’s so hard to feel when you can do more than feeling. So Eve does more than feeling. </p><p> </p><p>As their lips meet again- how long has it been?  Eve pushes the thought away because 1- it doesn’t matter, and 2- it hasn’t been that long at all. In regular human time- Eve’s time is different. They slowly stumble into the bathtub, too attached to let go of the way their mouths fit together perfectly. Villanelle tries to wrap her arms around Eve’s waist, she tries to overtake her once again. But no. This is not the time, Eve is determined. So she removes Villanelle’s hands. pinning her against the bathtub wall. They’re both still standing. Eve knows her legs might go mush any time. She can’t let that happen though. She needs to be in control. She wants to be in control. How does she go from being completely submissive to whatever this is? She doesn’t care. A lot of not caring going on. She fucking loves it as she continues kissing Villanelle’s lips. Then her jaw. Every kissable spot on her face. Her forehead. Her neck. She bites on her earlobe. She wants to mark her, but when she bites too hard, and V squirms, she quickly pulls away. Apologises.  </p><p>Villanelle chuckles, “Eve it’s okay.” </p><p>Eve is still not sure. </p><p>“I need you to do whatever you want to me,” V whispers. Eve could swear that in this very moment she’s never looked more unshielded. More unarmed metaphorically and literally. And Eve questions whether she deserves this trust. She thinks back to their first time meeting. How fucking different. </p><p> </p><p>The words continue to ring in Eve’s ears as she watches V’s eyes, trying desperately to find any sign of disapproval, because goddamn it she’s panicking. She doesn’t know what to do. She’s never done this before. What is going on right now? She’s scared, and embarrassed. She’s ashamed. And she’s just standing there. </p><p> </p><p>Villanelle must have sensed the hesitation. She gently sits down in the bathtub, her body slowly disappearing under water. Eve looks at her, she breathes. Villanelle doesn’t say anything. She can tell from the soft look in her eyes that she’s not judging. So Eve sits down next to her, their shoulders brushing against each other.  </p><p>“You know, we never have to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with,” Villanelle states, “Did you enjoy last night? I am sorry if this is not your thing. It’s oka-“ </p><p>“Please stop talking,” Eve interrupts. She’s thinking. She’s thinking. She didn’t mean to sound angry. But maybe she did. Is V mad at her? Is she going to leave? Eve’s minds wanders away. She can’t help but compare herself to every single lover Villanelle ever had. And how disappointed she probably is. Eve curses herself for not experimenting more in her youth. Did she really have to find a husband so fast and settle down? Even with Niko- things were never...so passionate. Eve realises perhaps that was one of the reasons she married him. He was always so goddamn vanilla. A simple man with simple needs. And Eve- God she fucking hated it. But it was also her comfort, veiling all of her darkness. Her secret desires. </p><p>She looks at V, “I just- I’ve never done this before,”</p><p>“You don’t say,” Villanelle jokes with a smile. How did she not just get up and leave already, Eve questions. Please save me from this. </p><p>But V doesn’t leave. Instead, she holds Eve’s hand under water, “I can show you- If that’s what you want.” </p><p>Eve nods. God, yes. Show me. Teach me. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s easier this way,” Villanelle says, shifting them in the water. Eve doesn’t know what’s going on, but she would gladly follow Villanelle’s lead anywhere. </p><p>They’re sat differently now. Eve against the wall. Villanelle between her legs, her back to Eve’s chest. Villanelle grabs Eve’s hand and leads her between her legs. </p><p>“Do you feel me Eve?” And she does. God, she does.</p><p>It takes a few seconds to get the hang of it. Eve slows down. She focuses. </p><p>Villanelle’s part are different. Eve mentally compares herself, and she wonders if that’s a health thing to do. V’s outer lips are smaller, her inner lips more prominent. She can feel them as she runs her fingers up and down her slit. She can feel the stickiness of her wetness despite the water. Eve closes her eyes. Tries to imagine what she’s touching. Her texture is similar to Eve, but the shape is not. When she gets to the clitoris, and tries to touch under the hood, Villanelle jerks. </p><p>“I should have mentioned…My clit is a bit too sensitive,” V confesses. Eve hears a shyness in her tone, “I would rather you touched around it…Instead of direct stimulation.” </p><p> </p><p>Eve feels a thrill? She feels honoured? Protective? She feels so many things. She gets to know this about Villanelle. She gets to have her in her lap. Feel her. *Know* her. Eve is learning. She feels a thrill again.  </p><p> </p><p>As she massages around her clit with her index and middle finger, she manages to manoeuvre her other arm so that the available hand can do...more stuff. </p><p> </p><p>Villanelle moans, “Yes, just like that.” Her confirmation makes Eve smile. She’s doing this. She’s doing something right at last. Eve’s free fingers- her other hand, begins to tease V’s entrance. Eve is proud that she was able to locate it with no help. Now failing that would have been truly embarrassing, Eve thinks.  </p><p> </p><p>“Can I?” She asks. The question is obvious. </p><p>Villanelle nods so fast; Eve remembers her own enthusiasm from the previous night. She inserts one finger. This feels normal. It feels natural. She’s felt this warmth before. She’s felt it in her own body. Villanelle’s vagina turns into an extension of her own. She inserts a second finger, not sure if her woman can take more. </p><p>Villanelle rides her fingers under water as Eve continues to touch around her sensitive spot just above. She places soft kisses on her neck, taking advantage of any skin that her mouth can reach. </p><p>“Bite me, Eve.” Villanelle begs between breaths. She is so damn close. </p><p>Eve does just that. She bites on her neck. Strong enough to leave a small mark. Gentle enough to drive V over the edge. When she’s finally mounting her orgasm, it’s not full-throated. It’s not loud in glory or vigorous in action. Instead, her body quietly trembles, and she lets out a few choked up moans. At some point, she whispers Eve’s name. And when it’s done, she moves Eve’s hands away from her, suddenly everything down there is too hot to touch. She lays on Eve, catching her breath. </p><p> </p><p>Eve has never been one to gloat. There is, however, something so beautiful in the confidence that follows after making someone you love come this hard. </p><p> </p><p>Love. </p><p>That’s a new word. </p><p> </p><p>A new word to think about later. Not when Villanelle is turning around and kissing you. </p><p> </p><p>And maybe. Just maybe. They don’t have to stop this. Whatever this is. </p><p> </p><p>They can do it together. </p><p> </p><p>Villanelle doesn’t say much, but when she interlocks their fingers together, lips on lips, there is no “maybe” anymore.</p><p>They *will* do this together.</p>
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